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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058768">Go This Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/telm_393/pseuds/telm_393'>telm_393</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alzheimer's Disease, Caretaking, Dementia, Gen, Heavy Angst, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, Sibling Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:02:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/telm_393/pseuds/telm_393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five feels like everything he learns, he already knew.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Number Five | The Boy &amp; The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Go This Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Anyway I still love The Umbrella Academy and this fic is really sad.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>This is not me,</em> Five says. <em>This is not me.</em> </p><p>Klaus, sporting running eyeliner and a rictus grin, says, “It’s fine, buddy, we know.” </p><p><em>Why were you crying?</em> Five asks. </p><p>Klaus laughs. Fake. “Why wouldn’t I? I cry all the time, over any old thing, you know me, just waterworks all day.” </p><p><em>Do you really? </em>Five asks, voice dry, and then, <em>Were you crying over me?</em> The words are an accusation.</p><p>Klaus laughs again, seeming a little put out by the fact that Five’s not buying what he’s selling, and says, too loudly, “Don’t give yourself so much credit!” </p><p>Five humphs and goes back to his notebook, and he locks his old research in a trunk and gives it to Vanya for safekeeping because, "After a while, all my equations, my life's work—it’ll be nonsense. I don't want to lose what's genuinely valuable in the noise." </p><p>Five scans the equations he's written in the past few hours, trying to get back on track because whatever he's working on is probably brilliant and he knows he doesn't exactly have a surplus of time before it isn’t, and he gives himself credit for Klaus's tears whether he wants it or not, because he’s never going to lose enough of his mental faculties to believe such obvious lies.</p><p> </p><p>Five’s mother almost certainly had early-onset Alzheimer’s, if she lived long enough to develop the disease. Five knows this because they did tests on him, and when the tests came back, a confirmation in the form of a genetic mutation was right there in black and white, and his siblings didn’t have it, though they checked just in case they were, in fact, related after all. </p><p>But no, it was just Five. Funny how something unseen can change, ruin, color a life. </p><p>Five has never trusted doctors, but they were fascinated and, in some morbid way, so was he, because otherwise he might be frightened. </p><p>Five isn’t a frightened person, not anymore. </p><p>“Oh, man up,” he tells Luther and Diego. “It’s not going to get that far.”</p><p>“Uh, dude, I don’t think you can fix this by sheer force of will,” Diego says in a pathetically sad voice.</p><p>Five snarls. <em>I know, </em>he thinks. “Watch me,” he snaps. </p><p> </p><p>Alzheimer’s was never really in Five’s particular area of interest or expertise, and a specialization in the early-onset kind even less so, but still he pores over books about this thing that’s coming at him like a train because he is looking for a miracle and if not a miracle at least a cure, and it’s becoming screamingly obvious that they’re the same thing. </p><p>The doctors are very little help when it comes to the cure, because all they say is that there isn’t one, and there are no clinical trials taking people under 75. </p><p> </p><p>There’s too much Five hasn’t done, and he wonders what exactly it is he hasn’t done yet, given that his life has for so many years been one great goal, and he reached it, didn't he?</p><p>At a certain point, he was able to accept that he found the time, bought the time, fought tooth and nail for the fucking time to save the world and his family, and he succeeded, and it’s not that he’s ever been afraid to die. </p><p>He just didn’t think he’d go this way.</p><p> </p><p>He’s never been afraid to die.</p><p><em>I’m afraid to leave, </em>he admits to Vanya, <em>I’m afraid to leave.</em> <em>Between now and the apocalypse, after all those years, I changed, but I’m here now, and I don’t want to change again, have I said this before, Vanya? How do I know if I’ve said this before?</em> <em>It’s like being stranded, déjà vu all over again.</em></p><p>“No, Five, you’re right here, okay?” Vanya says. “You’re with us, I promise. We’re with you. We’re going to be with you, even when you don’t…”</p><p><em>They want me to just accept it! There was a timebomb in my head, Vanya, and I didn’t know about it until it went off! Until after it went off! And now I’m supposed to be...zen about it? </em>He swipes a lamp off the table. The lightbulb explodes against the shadows. Vanya was going to say “even when you don’t remember who we are.”</p><p> </p><p>Five goes to the library. He goes to multiple libraries. He fills up notebooks. Words run through his mind like water, gone as quickly as they come, and it’s already too late, it’s just they didn’t think this was what was wrong, why would they, Five’s too <em>young—</em>the confusion, the forgetting, it’s trauma, everyone was saying it was trauma and that made sense, it made logical sense, and Five says, “Maybe Ben knows,” and everyone goes quiet and strange.</p><p>“Five, Ben’s gone.” Klaus says, voice shaking.</p><p>Five is taken aback. “Yes, obviously he’s dead, why are you telling me this like it’s news? I’m talking about his ghost.” He’s not that forgetful, he thinks a little uncomfortably. He’s not forgetful at all. </p><p>Five has an amazing memory, he’s a genius, no such thing as a genius without an amazing memory, no such thing as Five without an amazing memory, he just gets mixed up sometimes, between now and then, but he’s a time traveler, remember? And it’s not like he’s forgetting their address except for there’s a piece of paper in his pocket with his address written on it and—</p><p>“No,” Klaus says. “Ben’s <em>gone. </em>He left for, y’know...the other side? The light? Into the great unknown? He’s not here anymore, like...at all.” Klaus makes a little motion with his hands like a gentle explosion. “Poof.”</p><p>Five blinks. “When did <em>that</em> happen?”</p><p>Five thinks, <em>No, no. </em></p><p>Five says, <em>No, this isn’t the fucking end, it’s not.</em> <em>I’ve got the blue things on my side and they’re going to take me to where I’m supposed to go, do you understand? </em></p><p> </p><p>Luther asks, “What are we supposed to do if he teleports?” and the sounds of horror everyone makes are, frankly, hilarious. </p><p>It’s so funny that they didn’t think of that.</p><p>Five didn’t either, though.</p><p>What a thing to forget. </p><p> </p><p>Allison researches with him sometimes, at his table in the library. She wasn’t there all the time at first, but then she is, jaw set, leafing through books with any information at all about his disease. Sometimes he sees desperation in her eyes and doesn’t know where it comes from. </p><p>There’s a not-insignificant amount of information about his particular affliction.</p><p>There is little to no hope. </p><p>After a while, Five can’t picture the library well enough to blink there, and then he keeps getting lost, and then Allison always takes him, because he keeps getting lost.</p><p> </p><p>Luther frets, “But what’s gonna happen to him when we die?”</p><p>Allison says, “That’s...probably not going to be a problem, Luther.” </p><p>Her voice is raspy and he remembers her throat cut open. Natural wonder of the world, that she can speak at all. Five listens through the door to Allison asking, “I mean, didn’t the doctors say?”</p><p>“Say what?”</p><p>“It’s usually, um, eight to ten years? Maybe more? Like up to twenty?” Allison’s voice is thin. </p><p>“Wait, even if he’s...even if his body’s like…?”</p><p>“I think especially."</p><p>"Oh. I didn't think of..."</p><p>"Come on, Luther! That’s how it works. You just shut down. You <em>know </em>that!"</p><p>“Right, yeah. Yeah.”</p><p>“God,” Allison says, bemusement in her voice, “how did you forget?”</p><p>“Diego says I have a selective memory,” Luther mumbles. “I only remember what I want to know.”</p><p>
  <em>How did you forget?</em>
</p><p>The question hurts, because Five knows no one asks him that anymore.</p><p>They know the answer. </p><p>So does he, almost always.</p><p> </p><p>The diagnosis explains everything Five didn’t want to explain. The doctors don’t believe it until they do the genetic tests. </p><p>Everyone thought he was just crazy at first. For years. </p><p>Five thinks it would’ve been kinder. </p><p>He’s not far gone enough, when he gets the diagnosis, to forget he got it, because he’ll never be that far gone. Five’s too strong for that.</p><p>Five made it through the apocalypse, and he saved the world, basically, and on the wall he writes <em>presenilin-1.</em></p><p> </p><p>Due to a twist of fate, or, rather, his own impulsive actions, Five is the oldest of his siblings.</p><p>Maybe this is just the natural order of things making sure he goes first.</p><p>He went first. </p><p>Into the great unknown.</p><p> </p><p>Five combs his fingers through his hair and imagines combing them through the tangles in his brain, and the idea makes him laugh, just a little. </p><p>He sounds crazy. He is crazy. He’s been crazy for a long time, at least. He can admit that, he’s been able to admit that, though he’s not sure how long. Feels like a long time. Everything feels like an ugly cross between a very long time and just yesterday; just yesterday he was trading off a briefcase and today he’s in the Umbrella Academy with his siblings. </p><p>He’s traveling through time so often, lately. Sometimes he forgets he isn’t actually traveling through time. Sometimes he forgets that time travel isn’t just a metaphor. Sometimes he forgets how repetitive he’s become, all the things he learns being things he already knows, and he wonders if he just thought that, just knew that, just learned that, but all the things he learns are things he already knows.</p><p>What year is it? Who is the president? Do you remember what you ate for breakfast? </p><p>What do you remember, Five? </p><p> </p><p>Five is in an alleyway, stepping out of a burst of blue, and he frowns at the damp, dim space. Dallas, he guesses. </p><p>As he strolls out of the alleyway, taking in his surroundings with a calculated calm and noting that they look a lot more “2020s Westchester” than “1960s Dallas,” which is making him think he might’ve lost track of time, he feels an odd little lump in his pocket. He smiles to himself when he sees the tracker in the palm of his hand.</p><p>He crushes it under his heel. </p><p>Diego is half-hysterical when he finds him. “Jesus <em>Christ, </em>Five, Jesus <em>Christ, </em>you agreed to the tracker!”</p><p>And Five says, <em>How was I supposed to know?</em></p><p>And Klaus says, “Quick question, don’t trackers make you nervous?”</p><p>Five rolls his eyes, shoulders tense. “Oh, do you have a better idea? Because if you do, I’m all ears.”</p><p>It’s likely that no one did, because he couldn’t remember a single one. </p><p>He said, “We have to look towards the future.”</p><p>
  <em>How was I supposed to know?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>This is the year the world ended. It’s always the year the world ended.</p><p>It’s 1960something. It’s 2018 or maybe 2019. He’s fifty-seven. He’s sixtysomething. He’s seventeen. He’s eighteen.</p><p>He’s Five. </p><p>The numbers don’t matter anymore. </p><p>But five is the most important one.</p><p> </p><p>He can ask anytime, <em>What day is it? What year is it? </em></p><p>Someone will always answer, at least. </p><p>Except Ben. He died. That’s what Vanya said, at least.</p><p>It happened a long time ago.</p><p>But Five was just talking to him.</p><p>Everyone assures him that he’s wrong.</p><p>It happened a long time ago.</p><p>Five went away a long time ago too. </p><p>Just the other day, he was in an apocalyptic wasteland, but he’s assured that he’s also wrong about that, and if he’s so wrong about everything, what’s he ever right about?</p><p><em>I always used to be right, </em>Five says critically, and Vanya lets out a short giggle.</p><p>“I mean, you definitely thought you were.”</p><p>Five smiles at her. </p><p> </p><p>He finds, to his consternation, that he has little to no idea where he is, and when he opens his mouth to ask, his words have gone, and this is a room he should recognize, and it’s getting dark outside and that makes it much harder to tell the time, and there's a shadow in front of him blocking his way and he starts to cry. </p><p>Now he knows something, which is that he never used to cry. There was a lot he used to be. He had a very exciting life. </p><p>See? He knows some things. </p><p>“Five?” his brother asks, and Five looks at him and recognizes his face and wonders when he shaved his beard. “Five, what happened?” He pauses, and says, a little reluctantly, “It’s Diego.”</p><p><em>We’ve met, </em>Five tries to say, but the words get eaten by heaving sobs.</p><p>“Oh, no, Five, what’s wrong?” Klaus says, descending on him, fluttering around him, petting his hair. Five is about as tall as he is. That used to be different. </p><p><em>Where am I? </em>Five asks. <em>Where am I? Why don’t I know where I am?</em></p><p>“It’s okay,” Klaus coos. “It’s okay, we know.” </p><p><em>This isn’t me, </em>Five says. <em>This isn’t me.</em></p><p>“I know,” Diego says, all defeated sympathy. “I’m sorry, I know.” </p><p> </p><p>This is the year the world turned in on itself. </p><p>There’s more than one of those.</p><p>This is the year the world ended. </p><p>There’s more than one of those too. </p><p> </p><p>Five says, <em>I think something horrible is happening to me. </em></p><p>Vanya says, “Five, do you want to watch TV?”</p><p>He doesn’t, really, but he nods because he forgot what he was talking about before, and that embarrasses him.</p><p>Maybe he’ll remember later, or maybe he won’t remember later and he’ll think he’s saying something he hasn’t said before, a living rerun.</p><p> </p><p><em>This is not me, </em>Five says. <em>This is not me. You think this is me.</em></p><p>His brother, the one whose name starts with K—and it’s fine, Five will remember soon—smiles and says, “No one thinks that.”</p><p>Five isn’t so sure. Which, he thinks bitterly, is one of a diminishing amount of things he’s actually sure of. </p><p> </p><p>Five is at the dinner table, surrounded by his siblings, because apparently they eat dinner together now, so that’s an interesting surprise, and he sits and looks around at them—at Luther and Diego and Vanya and Allison and Klaus, though Ben is not just dead but gone these days—and says, “Well, the apocalypse didn’t happen, and you’re alive.” </p><p>Luther nods. Big, desperate smile. “Yeah!”</p><p>Nods all around. </p><p>“So,” Five continues, looking down at his plate. “At least I did what I had to do. It’s 2022, I had eggs for breakfast, and I’ve done what I had to do.” </p><p>Five isn’t sure if he’s giving up, exactly, but there aren’t enough hours in a day to save his own life, and time travel is beginning to become a thought experiment, and, “It’s 2022. I ate eggs for breakfast. And the world is here. And most of you aren’t dead.” He nods to himself. “So. I did what I had to do.” <em>Guess I can die happy now,</em> he thinks. <em>Guess I can die satisfied,</em> he edits. <em>If I have to die after all.</em> “I did what I had to do,” he announces, and there is enthusiastic agreement from his siblings, who are here. </p><p>“Sorry, weren't you <em>dead</em>?” he asks, and Vanya says, “no, Five, you did it, you did what you had to do.” He says, <em>Well, at least I’ll always have that. At least I found the time.</em> </p><p>He runs downstairs, almost in a panic. <em>Do you have the briefcase?</em> and Luther gives him a baffled look before his eyes widen and he says, "no, that's not a problem anymore, Five, don't worry" and Five remembers now. </p><p>He's yelling, shaking with rage because they don't understand, what the hell are they doing? <em>Hurry up, you idiots, it’s the apocalypse, we're running out of time!</em> and Allison says, voice soothing, "no, Five, that was a long time ago" and it was, wasn't it? </p><p>He says, <em>No, you’re wrong. I would know,</em> and Klaus makes some retort, but Five isn't paying attention, but Five forgets it immediately. </p><p>He says, <em>I’m running out of time.</em> </p><p>He says, <em>Fuck, I ran out of time!</em></p>
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